


The Labyrinth and the Housekeeper

by yuletide_archivist



Category: El Laberinto del Fauno | Pan's Labyrinth (2006)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-21
Updated: 2008-12-21
Packaged: 2018-01-25 06:58:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1637798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Story by Beelzy</p><p>Mercedes is drawn to the Labyrinth. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Labyrinth and the Housekeeper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for antumbral

 

 

In a time when her identity is split between constant fret about her brother lurking in the vague shadows of the wood and an endless facade of an indifferent housekeeper in the presence of that hijo de puta, Vidal, Mercedes is amazed to find her curiosity piqued by the unusual structure that is so gratuitously out of place in what is essentially a war zone. 

The labyrinth. 

Stone walls weathered by rain and tangled in plant children stand firm and majestic against the inquisitive touch of her long, pale fingers that ask questions she herself doesn't know she is asking - such as, 'are you as old as the trees who tower over you and sneak glances into the secrets behind your walls?' or 'how long have you been abandoned in this desolate forest somewhere in Spain with no one to appreciate you after your creators took flight?' 

She knows that the labyrinth is ancient, because the eloquent designs that run along its rough exterior are of a fascinating pictorial language that she has never seen before and wishes she could understand.

She knows that she is itching to explore every inch of the maze's inner depths, because her mother had let her sit in her lap and rocked back and forth, reading fairytales as her brother played with his wooden horse on the hearth. 

She knows that she had better not come out here again or she'll end up dropping the Captain's basket of clothing and running into the massive stone puzzle's shadowy corridors.

Swiveling around, she does her best to wash away the temptations that claw at her gut and returns to her duties.

The wind follows, playfully tussling the strands of her dark hair and tugging at the tips of her maid's apron.

The labyrinth stares at her retreating back in the sprinkles of the shady, afternoon sun. 

It is silent. It waits.

\---

Such an insignificant arrangement of rocks should not capture her attention so, but it does.

One night, Mercedes faces the dark wood and passes her bony hand over the traitorously bright light of the lantern, a sheaf of letters under her arm; she can't help, but let her mind wander over to the elusive ancient, crouching so still behind the trees, a corner of the rugged stones mockingly visible. 

For a moment, she irrationally considers leaving her task of messenger and going on an adventure instead, but then she remembers that they are in a war and there is no time for foolish detours and her brother is counting on her to be their only link to their people. 

She resists and doesn't feel the least bit frustrated when her brother fails to come to accept the letters she is putting her life on the line to deliver.

\---

The Captain is away and there's a sense of relief, because she can slightly relax the quiet act she puts on for him and Garces is a fool who is not as paranoid as his commander.

It is dusk and Mercedes is heading back to her room at the servants quarters when something suddenly and inexplicably jumps into her mind and she is off in the familiar direction before she realizes what she is doing.

The servants still milling about the darkening area glance curiously after her, before shrugging off her odd behavior and returning to their lives.

\---

She is trotting up and down the uncertain pathways of the labyrinth, scattering clouds of dusts with her hurried pace, the shadows growing deeper and darker. It is getting late and she has hit so many dead ends, but she feels not afraid.

It is invigorating.

Just to explore, to put her brain to use and solve a puzzle after a lifetime of being looks down upon as just a woman, to dabble in a childish act of play; a tiny grin playing across her face as she recalls bits and pieces of the tales her mother read to her in the late hours of the night such a long time ago.

Mercedes is so consumed in memories and the thought that she is actually having fun for the first time in years that she stumbles and loses her footing with surprise when she turns a corner and finds that she has reached her destination. 

It's almost disappointing. Like all the things she's ever enjoyed, she wished this didn't have to come to an end. She's almost sorry she came.

Squinting around, because it has become so dark, a new feeling of excitement wells up inside of her when she finds some kind of a hole in the ground - large with a crude, stone staircase leading down into it!

She goes.

\---

It is dark and musty and the smell of earth is everywhere, almost suffocating, but she loves it. This is new and different, and the air is dank and wet, and she can't see well in the gloom, but she is bent on exploring anyway, because she is alive.

\---

The rocky ceiling looms over her, almost threatening to crumble and crush her. She can feel it. She is not supposed to be here; she has stumbled into something ancient and magical and not her own. She is an intruder. 

As she examines a statue depicting a goat-like creature, a girl, and a baby, with rapt interest, she hears it.

A creaking, a groaning like some beast moving and stretching its limbs after being still for a long time. 

She stiffens and fear floods her senses the first time since she entered the labyrinth, because she is no fighter, but an informant of the Red Army cowardly posing as a housekeeper instead of doing anything more important to help her brother who is living like an animal out in the woods and why, oh, why had she not told anyone that she would be here in this forsaken labyrinth? 

Her back is pinned against the statue she had just been studying and her breath is quick. She is alone in a maze outside of the mill about to get attacked by some wild animal that has made its home inside. Screaming would be futile, because she is underground and no one would hear her, and even if they did, it would take them forever to make their way through all of the twists and turns and dead ends to aid her.

Rooted to the spot, Mercedes finally finds the source of the noise. Her eyes widen. She is staring at the most extraordinary being she has ever beheld. 

From what she can make out, it is a goat-like creature not unlike the one on the statue she's huddled up against. Her eyes find two horns, a flat face with circular designs on its forehead, all framed by dark mossy green hair complete with a goatee. It's body looks like it was crafted from bark, a product of the earth. 

A memory surfaces and finds recognition in her mind - it is a faun, she realizes.

It is looking back at her, just as baffled - or at least that is the expression she interprets of its unusual face. She is still frightened, but the glint of intelligence in its eyes calms her a little.

She is compelled to speak.

Mercedes stands there in her plain servant's dress and apron, and opens her mouth, not knowing for the life of her what to say, because she doesn't believe in fairy tales and there is no such thing as what is standing before her at this very moment:

'...Hello.'

 


End file.
